I got off the bus in Stratford with most of my fellow Olympic flag-bearers. As we went through security, one of the fresh-faced soldiers back from Afghanistan asked for a photo with the legendary Ethiopian distance runner Haile Gebrselassie. It was a touching start to my London 2012 opening ceremony experience. Volunteers – including many in their late teens and early 20s – and professional organisers worked so enthusiastically and seamlessly as to appear indistinguishable.

This atmosphere was as much about Danny Boyle's influence as the show itself. He greeted my friend Doreen Lawrence with the confession that she had been his first inspiration for the flag-carrying party. With typical humility, she expressed surprise that he knew who she was. He shook his head in incredulity and gave her a hug. Sure enough and for the rest of the buildup, I watched him passing among the participants – especially the volunteers – trying to give personal thanks to as many as possible.

The backstage atmosphere gave more than a hint of the democratic nature of the spectacle itself. I could hear school kids and A-list artists alike warming up in the makeshift huts that served as dressing and green rooms. I saw the huge piles of hospital beds and rows of costumes in waiting. The wardrobe department spoke surprisingly calmly of the awesome challenge of dressing a cast of thousands.

Sally Becker (a flag-bearer who saved so many children from death in Bosnia) described with infectious humour driving an ambulance under fire, while Leyma Gbowee (credited with ending the civil war in Liberia) hastened to remind us she had only won the Nobel peace prize once. While proud to represent Liberty holding the flag in such incredible human rights company, my lack of personal sacrifice was rarely far from my thoughts. I also knew some would accuse us of sanitising the less ethical sponsors and more controlling aspects of this international institution while others would charge the organisers with "political correctness gone mad".

Yet if, like me, you believe internationalism can be for people and values, not just corporations and military alliances, how can you resist sharing the optimism of Boyle's ambition? When the emails and texts came in from friends across the political spectrum over the weekend, one in particular noticed the poignant contrast between the Beijing and London approach. In China, human rights campaigners get locked up; in Britain, even the most irritating gets to carry the Olympic flag.

My own gentle scepticism began to evaporate from the moment the children performed traditional songs from the home nations. My 10-year-old's favourite parts were the Industrial Revolution and Mr Bean closely followed by the comedy genius of the royal Bond sequence which demonstrated that even the pinnacle of the British establishment can laugh at itself. This was a UK narrative capable of acknowledging pop culture, the internet and Windrush alongside Shakespeare, Elgar and the green and pleasant land.

Of course you can't please everyone, but I was a little surprised to see the tribute to the NHS and Great Ormond Street hospital criticised as a partisan stunt. A bit like their rights and freedoms, people in this country fiercely debate its delivery and application but generally cherish the principle of universal healthcare itself.

This didn't feel like a leftwing or rightwing rally. There was far too much variety, self-deprecation and wit – qualities that made the ceremony all the more British. From innovation in industry and technology to diversity in the arts and literature; from suffragettes and hunger marchers to punks and rappers – the pageant was a celebration of our freedom. As with all great theatre, it became progressively easy to suspend disbelief. Boyle's story of Britain was inclusive and truthful, co-ordinated and individual, spectacular and human, and it set a positive challenge for the Olympics, our country and the world.